


Radioactive.

by fromunderthesun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Firestarter - Freeform, Love, M/M, One True Pairing, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromunderthesun/pseuds/fromunderthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn has been half in love with Liam since they started going to uni together a year and a half ago. He finally, <i>finally</i> got the guts to ask Liam out and cannot believe his good fortune. They're on their fourth date now and Zayn can't help but get to hoping because you know what they say about the fourth date...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radioactive.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first time I wrote my favorite One Direction pairing and I'm really, really pleased with the result. You can find my _chaptered_ Ziam fic in my works under the title Can't Hold Us.

He’s nervous. He knows rationally that he shouldn’t be but the sick feeling in his stomach won’t go away. The tips of his fingers are buzzing with it. He checks himself in the mirror, making sure that his hair is perfect and sleek and that his jacket fits properly. His reflection looks back at him, queasy and slightly too pale. It makes his eyes huge and dark in his face.

“Stop that,” he tells himself sternly. “What are you losing your kit over, eh? You’ve already seen him three bloody times before this.”

Except he’d been nervous the last three times before too, his mind reminds him snidely. He doesn’t know how he’d gotten the guts to ask Liam out in the first place even. They’d been in the corridor after anthro class and Liam had looked so cute with his plaid and ruffled hair. So Zayn had asked him to a slam beat poetry competition and coffee, fidgeting with the strap of his bag all the while. He hadn’t even been able to look Liam in the goddamn eye. But Liam had said yes, smiling so hugely the entire time, as if he were actually really pleased to be asked. Zayn had never been so happy or relieved, not in his entire life.

He could do this.

He nods decisively at himself in the mirror and approves of the determined set of his mouth. He leaves his dorm room before he can obsess over his hair again because he’ll be late if he does and that’s absolutely not acceptable.

They’ve decided to go bowling tonight. Well, Liam had suggested it and Zayn had agreed because he had seemed so genuinely enthusiastic about it. It has just added to his own nerves however. He’s rubbish at bowling. He’s absolute shit to be frank and, God, he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Liam. He’s been praying for a week straight that he’s suddenly become a prodigy since he last played. He even looked up Youtube videos on technique until he cursed and slammed his laptop shut out of pure frustration because it wasn’t like they were helping when he didn’t have a ball in hand.

His roommate, Louis, hadn’t exactly helped either. He’d just laughed when Zayn spilled all of his concerns on him, desperate enough to turn to one of the outlets he had.

“Well, it’s not like it’s hard, is it?” he’d said. “You just throw the damn thing as straight as you can and hope you knock some pins down.”

Yeah, that hadn’t helped.

Louis doesn’t have to worry though. Louis doesn’t have to impress the nicest person he’s ever met, whose brown eyes literally make him melt. No, that falls on Zayn, bugger it all to hell. He’ll be lucky if he survives tonight at all and the fact that he’ll die and his last lay had been terrible at best—and been nearly ten months ago now—just doesn’t bear further contemplation.

He finally reaches Liam’s room, two buildings and a ten minute walk away. That’s mostly because of the stairs though. Zayn resists the urge to check his hair again and takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he’s been around Liam for a year and a half and three dates now. He shouldn’t be so damn _nervous_. Keeping that thought in mind, he raps on the door.

His mind is blown completely out of his head when the door swings open, of course.

Liam is dressed simply enough but is wearing a plaid button-up again, just as he had over a month ago when Zayn had finally grown the balls to ask him out. This time, though, he’s wearing it open over a white undershirt and Zayn can feel the synapses in his brain firing and dying in a fiery collision. It is all so inconsiderate that he almost groans.

“Hi! You all right there?”

“Yeah. Brilliant.” He must look like he’s choking on something for Liam to ask in such a way. He feels like he’s choking on his own sexual frustration and despair that someone so perfect isn’t going to want anything to do with him. “How about you?”

“I’m great! Just excited about tonight.”

More of Zayn’s brain is dying by the minute. He can feel it, can feel his intelligence dropping because he’s blinded by brown eyes and that happy grin. He can’t quite believe that Liam wants to hang out with him either. That’s more than slightly mind-boggling.

“Yeah…Me too. Shall we go then?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me just grab my jacket.”

Rather than take the Underground, they elect to walk. Zayn can feel himself calming down now he’s been in Liam’s company longer and thank God for that because he wants to hit himself for acting so giddy. He’s twenty years old, for fuck’s sake. He should be able to be with the guy he likes without crawling out of his own skin. He’s done it before. He’s normally _good_ at this. Liam is just so cute—in both looks and personality—that it makes Zayn lose all his moves. He’d hate him for it but he can’t when Liam is—well, Liam.

Zayn sways closer to the other boy as they walk, innately drawn toward him. He draws out a cigarette from his pack and quickly lights it, glad that he seems tolerant of this. He’s lost a perspective date or two because of the habit and while he’s shrugged it off he’d hate to see the same happen with this guy. It’d be kind of devastating actually, considering he’s been head over heels for him after he’d known him for two weeks.

He inhales the smoke and lets his other hand hang, the one that’s closest to Liam. He so badly wants to reach out and take his hand but he’s not sure they’ve reached that stage in the relationship and, for fuck’s sake, since when has he been so awkward? He’s never been so unsure in his life and it makes him feel all the more off-balanced.

And then Liam’s fingers touch his and his stomach pitches—he didn’t even knew he could get butterflies again until he met Liam—and they walk like that, Zayn smoking until he hits the filter and chucks it, talking quietly about their days and classes and their schedules for the week.

They reach the bowling alley, with its neon lights and carpeting with cartoon images. The smell of hot dogs and beer mix with the polish on the lanes. The place is mostly full of families and he feels a moment’s disquiet because _what if_ but the man at the counter seems welcoming and they rent their shoes and balls with ease. Zayn is able to breathe a little easier after that.

They’re assigned to lane seven, one lane over from a family of five. They sit and Zayn ties the shoes of the ridiculous bowling shoes, grimacing because he liked his own much better and they went with his outfit but this is Liam’s deal and he’s game if it means he gets to spend time with him. Even if it includes awful shoes that God knows how many people have already worn. He doesn’t think about that more in case it makes him nauseous, electing to think of how nice Liam's hands look tying his own shoes instead.

Liam keys their names into the game and Zayn laughs when he sees that Liam has called himself Batman and Zayn is apparently—

Catwoman.

“What?” He laughs and comes up behind Liam, hands light on his shoulders. He’s feeling less nervous now, settling back into his skin and the routine of this. Liam tangling his fingers in his own has made him realize who he is again and Zayn Malik doesn’t act like a fifteen year old little git on dates with insanely attractive men. “ _Catwoman?_ I don’t know if I’m s’posed to be offended by that or not.”

“Oh.” Liam’s flushing, the light pink traces of the blood beneath his skin coloring his cheek and neck. Zayn touches the slightly hotter skin and feels Liam jump slightly beneath him. It’s good to know he’s not the only one nervous. “I just—I— I crossed the line, didn’t I?”

“I dunno, it depends on why you thought so.” Zayn isn’t mad, he’s really not. He’s curious more than anything because there’s no way Liam would ever mean this to be intentionally cruel.

“Well, um. Catwoman is like the epitome of cool, yeah? She’s a proper villain and she and Batman have this kind of tug and pull relationship and ehm.” Liam turns in the swivel chair, his eyes wide, his face an even darker shade of pink. Zayn can see him as a little boy getting excited over his action men and Batman sheets and the entire world of Gotham. He feels slightly ashamed because he wants to take Liam and make him come harder than he ever has and for some reason he’s thinking of those sheets now. It makes him feel slightly awkward. “Well, to be honest. Uhm. Well. Catwoman is sexy?”

“So you’re saying I’m sexy?” Zayn grins mischievously.

“Uhm. Well. Ehm. Yeah.” Liam’s rubbing the back of his neck now in embarrassment and it’s so endearing that Zayn wants to kiss him, wants to grab him up and hug him hard and kiss him all over his hot and flushed face. “She has these long legs and you do too and she’s so _cool_ and you are too and I thought—”

“You thought it was cute,” Zayn interrupts. “And you were right. It’s fucking adorable.” He leans in close, watching Liam’s eyes blow wider. Awareness. Awareness at Zayn’s proximity and his whisper. “Does that mean you think I’d look good in all leather trousers then?”

“I—” Liam swallows and Zayn closes the distance, pressing his mouth to Liam’s like he’s been dying to ever since he opened the door.

It’s a soft kiss that turns harder. Liam’s mouth opens willingly under his and his hands grip Zayn’s shoulders, digging for purchase at the leather. Normally Zayn would be scandalized that someone was touching the costly garment—and possibly giving it nail punctures—but he can’t care when Liam’s tongue slides against his own and he’s lost in a world of mint toothpaste and the smell of Liam’s soft and clean cologne.

They lean away, smiling at one another with soft eyes once it's over. Liam looks slightly staggered and that makes Zayn laugh. He reaches out to touch his cheek with reverent fingertips. Fuck, he likes him so much. Likes him more than he has anyone in a long, long time. How could he not? Especially when Liam laughs and, rather than acting shy, cranes upward so he can kiss Zayn again quickly.

“You’re not mad then?”

“Does it seem like I am?”

Liam goes to bowl first and, flushed though he is from their mini-makeout session, Zayn can’t help but feel nervous all over again. He watches as Liam picks up his ball and stands confidently on the polished wooden floor. He watches him step up and swing back and smoothly release. The dark green ball goes spinning down the lane, nothing but a blur. He knocks down all but two pins. Zayn swallows, his hands suddenly clammy and his throat tight. This is going to be bad. This is going to be so, so bad. Liam shoots a smile his way and Zayn nods, smiling as brightly as he can.

Liam knocks down the other two pins. Fuck fuck _fuck_ , he's knocked over the other two pins.

Zayn is about to hyperventilate again as he stands. Liam comes over to him, awash with his own happiness.

“Jesus, I haven’t bowled in years. Reckon it’s like riding a bicycle?”

If Liam hasn’t bowled in years either maybe Zayn has a chance. Maybe. He nods jerkily, biting at the inside of his lip. “Let’s hope so…”

He hefts his own ball and walks toward the lane, staring at the little white pins so far away, mocking him. Who even came up with the idea of bowling? Who decided that hefting several pounds of heavy ball—his wrist is going to _kill_ him in the morning—and flinging it down a greased up lane to knock down ten little objects seemed like a good idea? And who decided to make even _that_ rubbish harder and install little gutters on either side so if you were truly awful you and everyone else would know it?

Humans are so fucking stupid he just wishes he could murder them all sometimes.

Zayn stares down the lane and then takes a deep breath. He remembers to step forward and swing the ball, letting it slide from his fingers. It’s a bit wobbly, but he at least makes it onto the thoroughfare. His ball goes significantly slower than Liam’s though. He panics, wondering for a moment if he was actually going to manage to get his ball _stuck_. It makes to the end, just barely, praise Jesus hallelujah, and nudges a pin into another one. Eight remain, laughing gleefully at him now, taunting him with their red stripes of shame.

Zayn turns back around and goes to the machine to get his ball again. Liam is there, looking at him so encouragingly that Zayn wants to tear his own face off. He’s supposed to be _impressing_ Liam here. He’s supposed to be fucking—fucking _Catwoman_ and here he is, failing miserably at this. Sexy indeed. The wind has literally been sucked from his sails. There’s no way Liam will ever want to see him again, not if he can’t even manage to _bowl_. What does that say about how good of a lay he is, huh? What does that say about how good he’d be in bed if he can’t even throw a sodding ball straight?

“Hey, don’t worry.” Liam’s hand is light and comforting on his shoulder. Zayn wants to scream. He wants to suggest they get out of here immediately so he can avoid further embarrassment. “Just take a deep breath, yeah? It’s fine. It’s only the first frame.”

That’s easy for someone to say who picked up a bloody spare.

“Right.” Zayn nods, exhaling sharply through flared nostrils. “Concentrate.”

On his next go, he ends up hitting another one for a grand total of three pins taken down. He tries to calm down and remember it can’t possibly get worse—until it does.

Liam is thoroughly kicking his arse from here to America by the fourth frame. Zayn has even managed to get two gutter balls and he’s so mad about it all. He knows he’s not being as fun as he should be but he’s honestly so pissed at the entire idea of bowling and he wants to take the little pins down there and chuck them into a bin and process them into nothing but powder. Somehow. Maybe he’ll get one of those machines that press things into pancakes. He wants to turn the entire building into rubble.

Liam comes over and rubs one of his tense shoulders. Zayn resists the urge to move away. He knows that Liam isn’t honestly trying to beat him but it stings because he so wants to make Liam feel good about deciding to go out with him and he’s doing nothing but proving what a miserable sod he is. Even sitting here sulking is demonstrating it but he can’t help it.

“Hey, cheer up. We’re halfway through.” Liam smiles consolingly and Zayn tries to stop from gritting his teeth.

“I’m sorry I’m so shit. I know you were really looking forward to this. I just—I can’t bowl.”

“It’s fine.” Liam smiles again, leaning in to peck Zayn’s lips. “You’re honestly kind of cute moping over here.”

“I’m being a bloody wanker is what I’m doing.”

Liam shrugs. “I still say cute. Besides, I can help you if you’d like?”

“Help me?”

“Yeah. C’mon.” Liam grips Zayn’s hand and pulls him to his feet. “It’s your turn so let’s go.”

Zayn grabs his ball again and Liam is right there with him. They step up to the floor and Zayn is all too aware of Liam behind him, filling the air around him with his warmth and presence. His space is being invaded and he doesn’t find himself minding too much until he looks down that blasted lane again and is filled with dread.

“Raise your ball to your chest,” Liam instructs.

Zayn does as he’s told and then Liam is pressed flush behind him and Zayn can’t quite contain his gasp. They’ve hugged, of course, and kissed and even gotten a little handsy but this, this is very different. He can smell Liam’s light cologne again and feel the line of his body all against his.

Zayn hopes he doesn’t get a boner right here in front of all the kids and their mummies out for family night.

“Bring it down,” Liam whispers. Zayn can feel his hand hot on his hip, heat bleeding through his shirt, and he can’t quite remember what he’s doing, only that he needs to do what Liam’s telling him. He feels Liam’s hand lightly on his own, nudging his reach back farther.

“When I say three, swing forward, thumb first, as straight as you can. Don’t let your arm cross your body. Just look at the center arrow on the floor and make your arm follow that. One…two…” He fades away, giving Zayn his space. “Three.”

Zayn does what Liam told him to do, unable to think of even how to do anything else. He stands back beside Liam once he releases, breath caught, watching the ball speed away. They link hands automatically, clutching at one another tightly with anticipation. The ball keeps going, going, going—

And hits the pins with a crash, taking down all but one.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Zayn is shouting and bouncing up and down but he could care less about dignity. He feels like he just won a match or aced a brutal exam or—or—he kind of feels like he could be Catwoman escaping with a bag of jewels right now. “Did you see that! Did you see that! I almost got a strike!”

“Yes, you did.” There's laughter is in Liam’s voice, though he hasn’t quite freed it yet. “That was brilliant, babe.”

Zayn turns to Liam, eyes huge with excitement because he almost got a bloody strike and then Liam called him babe and before he knows it they’re kissing again, pressed tight against one another, greedily exploring the confines of mouths as their hands grip possessively at the back of each other’s necks.

They pull away and Zayn is slightly breathless, wild with the combined intoxication of it all. Liam is smiling at him like he couldn’t be happier and he feels kind of dizzy. His fingers are still laid against the back of his neck, his fingers tangled slightly in the hair at his nape. He realizes that Liam is in the same position and he laughs.

“D’you wanna get out of here?” he asks without thinking. “I don’t think all the families here are too keen to see us going at it.”

“I really don’t give a shit what they think but I definitely want to get out of here.”

Zayn hasn’t heard Liam curse before and he finds himself grinning because he likes it, likes the way that the words sound coming from his mouth. He kisses Liam excitedly again on impulse, smiling through the press of lips.

“Okay.”

They abandon their game, half-finished, and hurriedly pull on their coats, kicking off the disgusting shoes they’ve been given to slip into their own. They leave the shoes on the counter and sprint away, laughing, hands tangling again automatically. Zayn could sing to the whole world, he’s so happy, because he’s holding hands with Liam Payne and they’re leaving a date early and, oh god, they’re both so giddy and he can’t _believe_ his good fortune and he hopes hopes hopes what he thinks is coming next—pun intended—really will be.

\---------------------------------------------

They’re gleeful and giddy and Zayn’s nerves have completely disappeared because he’s so _excited._ He and Liam are holding hands and walking as quickly back to their uni housing as they can. Every time they’re forced to stop for a light they squeeze fingers and exchange looks, mouths trespassing against personal space again. Their strides increase and lengthen the closer they get to the familiar buildings, their anticipation rising. It isn’t until they’re a short distance away that a thought pops into Zayn’s head.

“Where—where are we going?” Liam pulls up slightly and Zayn can _feel_ his disappointed surprise. “I mean, are we going to yours or mine?”

“Oh.” Liam laughs and Zayn wants to bottle up the happiness in his eyes to save for a rainy day. “Well, uhm, I don’t know if Harry and Niall will be in our room—?”

“It’s okay,” Zayn rushes to assure him. “Louis won’t be in ours. We can go to mine.” He neglects to mention that he’d threatened to shrink all of Louis’ trousers if he so much as showed his face on their floor tonight. He doesn’t think Liam really needs to know that.

“Safe.” Liam’s smile blossoms and Zayn kisses him again, unable to resist, glad that they’ve crossed into the land of casual intimacy because he’d been craving it so long—being able to kiss Liam whenever he wants.

They try to keep up some brand of conversation but their impatience is filling in all the cracks and that ship is quickly and efficiently sunk. They lapse into silence, their hands tight and sweaty pressed together but they don’t let go. Expectation has practically become a third companion beside them. They finally reach Zayn’s door and he reaches for his key, fumbling with the lock before the skittering finally stops and it’s unlocked and open and he and Liam fall inside.

Zayn flicks on the light and they’re greeted by the sight of the room with its two beds and two desks and all of the things two lads can accumulate to make the bare-brick space feel like home. Zayn cleaned the room from corner to corner _just in case_ and he surveys it all quickly, hoping that he didn’t miss anything—or that Louis didn’t come in while he was gone just to take the piss. It’s just as immaculate as he’d left it, thankfully. Liam has wandered over to Zayn’s side of the room now and Zayn feels a stabbing sense of doubt—his decorations are _personal_ and he doesn’t want Liam to laugh at it or misunderstand.

When he comes up beside him, Liam is looking at the mess of art on the wall by Zayn’s neatly made-up and seemingly too-small bed. He is wide-eyed and impressed when he looks at Zayn, fingers brushing lightly at his wrist.

“Is this yours?”

“Yeah.” Zayn flushes, slightly embarrassed now. “These are just some of my past pieces that I really liked…”

There’s canvases and mattes, glossy prints and organic works all hung up together, jumbled together, to cover up the stark brick that Zayn loathes with a passion. To be honest, though, it’s Zayn’s personal gallery and a reminder to himself on his bad days that he’s actually _good_ at what he does. It fills him with a quiet sense of achievement that Liam seems to approve.

“This is—this is _amazing_ ,” Liam whispers reverently, almost as if he’s afraid to distrub the atmosphere. “It’s brilliant that you can _make_ all this. I mean—there’s paintings and spray paint and charcoal and—is that—?”

“Yeah, aluminum cans, yeah.”

“And you made a bloody Japanese tree out of them.”

“It took a couple of months.” Zayn isn’t sure why he’s playing it off, but he is. The piece is one of his absolute favorites, as well as one of the ones he takes the most pride in. “And I cut my hands to ribbons doing it.”

“It’s beautiful.” Liam turns to him, such amazement in his eyes that Zayn colors again. “All of this is seriously so amazing, Zayn. You’re a genius.”

“Oh god.” Zayn huffs out a laugh. “I’m not genius, I just like art.”

“You’re incredible,” Liam insists.

“Hardly. There’s a bloke in my class—”

“I don’t care about the bloke in your class, I care about you.”

Their mouths slide together again and it’s good. It’s soft and warm and close. This kiss isn’t greedy but gentle—this is refamiliarizing and accustoming. This is Zayn and Liam starting out nice and slow—because this could matter. They both know that.

It doesn’t take long for their jackets to slide from their shoulders and drop to the floor. Zayn is kissing Liam hungrily now, the fire ignited in his blood. He can tell this time is different. He can tell that this time they’re not going to stop when they got breathless. He’s fighting down his impatience because he wants this and he wants this bad. Zayn’s teeth rake down Liam’s throat and he laughs shakily, a hand fisting in the back of Zayn’s hair. Zayn doesn’t even care because it’s Liam and it means he’s making him come undone.

“Shit,” Liam whispers and Zayn smiles against his skin, teeth sinking in to his collarbone. “Zayn, oh god.”

“Shhh.” Zayn laughs, pulling away enough so he can look at him. He runs his fingers over Liam’s cheek, hardly able to believe he’s really here and as enthusiastic about this as he is. “We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.”

Liam colors delicately under his fingers and Zayn’s stomach twists with delight. Liam is just so _charming_ when he’s blushing. “I know, I know. I just—Bollocks, I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“You have?” Zayn laughs, his eyebrows arching high. “Oh my god, you’re kidding me.”

“No.” Liam is flushing all the redder and it’s making Zayn want to reach out and kiss him and bite him because he’s so adorable. “I’ve—I’ve liked you for a while now and I’ve been imagining this and—well, yeah.”

Zayn is laughing now, nose scrunched up at the massive amounts of emotion accosting him. “You’re taking the piss surely. You’ve liked _me_ for a while now?”

“Of course I’ve liked you!” Liam says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re so cool and you’re the most fit guy I’ve ever seen in my whole life and you’ve got the whole artist thing going for you. To be honest, I never thought you’d like someone like me just because you seemed like you were far too 'indie' to be in to someone who wants to be a bloody teacher.”

Zayn laughs, head shaking. What is the irony of this? How is it even possible that Liam was as intimidated of him as he was? “How could anyone not like you?” He laughs again, pressing forward for a quick kiss. “You’re literally the kindest person alive and you’re cute and you laugh at dumb things and you like superheroes—”

“But that’s lame,” Liam interjects until Zayn cuts him off with a shake of his head and a chuckle.

“Lame? It’s brilliant, it is, because I get to be a complete nerd with you and I love it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I tell you something?” Liam looks up from under his lashes at Zayn and, oh god, but he’s definitely thinking of Liam looking at him like that from an entirely different position. His fingers draw lightly down Zayn’s arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Of course you can.”

“I—I was going to ask you out _ages_ ago but I was bricking it the entire time just thinking about it so I never did. And then…and then you asked _me_ out and, Jesus, I couldn’t stop smiling for the next three days. I’ve been wanting to get to know you for forever and I haven’t been disappointed. Not at all.”

“Really?” Zayn is touched. He is moved. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that he’s so crap at bowling now, not if he could interest Liam based solely off of the few classes they’ve had together.

“Really.”

They’re smiling when they kiss this time, both amazed by the other. Zayn can taste it on Liam’s tongue and feel it in the fingers that smooth his hair. He’d love to memorize the shape of Liam’s lips and identify each and every corner of his mouth, but his impatience is rising again and this time he’s not ignoring it, bolstered as he is by Liam’s admissions. He pushes Liam’s button-up away before he lets his hand span up his stomach, his skin hot against his palm. Liam grins into their kiss before he bites Zayn’s lower lip playfully and pulls, sending bolts of instant arousal to Zayn’s already excited cock. Zayn laughs and realizes he has Liam pushed back against his bed. But not on it. And that’s where he wants him. That’s where he really, really wants him. He picks Liam up by the hips, lifting him enough so that he’s perched on the edge of the mattress. Liam laughs delightedly, tearing his mouth away so he can run appreciative hands over Zayn’s shoulders.

“Mmmm. I didn’t know you were so strong.”

Zayn shrugs. “I can be.”

It makes Liam laugh soundlessly before his hand cups the back of Zayn’s neck, dragging him in. “Well, I fucking love it.”

Their lips seal in a kiss that makes Zayn dizzy. He grips at Liam’s hips and then Liam is grinding up into him and Zayn gasps, feeling Liam’s half-aroused erection pressing into his stomach. He can feel Liam’s smirk before their kiss turns harder, clashing, a fight for dominance in the wrestling of tongues and the nip of teeth. Their hands have turned possessive, racing over each other, claiming what they can for their own. Liam tugs Zayn’s shirt up only for Zayn to finish the job as Liam ditches his own. They press tight to one another, bare from the waist up, the feeling of skin on skin one that nearly makes Zayn roll his eyes. His mouth falls so he can press wet kisses to Liam’s neck and chest. He can hear Liam’s hum of approval and it serves to only make him all the hungrier. He kisses one of his nipples before he takes it into his mouth, sucking on it, hearing Liam’s gasp while his fingers grip in his hair. He focuses his attention there. He’s rewarded by the sound of his ragged breath and his “fuck” of exclamation.

Zayn pushes Liam to his back so he can trail slow sweeps of his mouth down his body, over the abs he’s been torturing himself wanting to touch the last year and a half, and down down down. He brushes against the waistband of his jeans glances up for permission. Liam is just watching him, lips turning up infinitesimally when he sees Zayn looking at him. He takes it as a yes. He unzips his jeans and pushes them down his hips, impatient again. He’s been thinking of this for so, so long and he wants it. He wants it _bad_. He’s greeted by the sight of dark boxer briefs and Liam’s cock straining against them, a gorgeous bulge against the fabric. Zayn stops himself from licking his lips at the sight of it.

“You’re okay with this?” He flicks a glance Liam’s way, who’s nodding, teeth sunk into his lip.

“God, yes. Just—please.”

Zayn grins a bit before he hooks his fingers in the material and pulls down slowly, breath actually catching when Liam literally _springs_ free. He tosses the underwear to the ground without a look. Liam’s _big_ —in both breadth and length—and it makes him a little breathless thinking about the implications of that. He locks eyes with Liam’s soft brown ones and then bends low and takes his cock into his mouth. He hears Liam’s little sigh and it makes him take more. He wants to make Liam happy. He wants to give him everything he can. He slides up and down his now wet cock, sucking him off, licking round his head before he goes back to the tension and the pressure. Liam’s hips loop a little and then a little more.

“Zayn,” he gasps.

Zayn stops immediately, thinking something is wrong, but Liam is watching him with heated eyes, his face slightly flushed. His cock is between the both of them, hard and, yep, he’s pretty damn big.

“No, no. I didn’t want you to stop.” Liam flushes further. “I just—I need more. Please, I need more?”

Zayn doesn’t understand for a moment, his mind going blank, before he can make sense of what Liam actually wants. He smiles when he does and nods. Relief blooms because this is good, this is very good. He wants to do this. He wants to do anything he can to convince Liam that he made the right choice in going out with him.

“‘Course. Scootch up though, yeah?” 

He nudges Liam to get up on the bed and then reaches into the drawer of his desk. He rummages through all of the bits and pieces of his life scattered inside before he unearths the bottle of lube, hardly used. Zayn joins Liam on the bed, both of them situated properly now. He looks at Liam, who nods, and opens the bottle, slicking up his fingers. He looks across at the other boy again, head spinning again because this is reality and usually this only happens in his dreams.

“You’re sure?” he asks again.

“Please,” Liam breathes and Zayn accepts it.

He leans in and kisses him, tongues sliding, hovering over him in truth now. He distantly remembers he’s half-clothed whereas Liam is completely naked before he breaks off and slides two fingers inside of Liam, feeling the heat and tightness close about him instantly. He swallows down a gasp but can feel Liam’s own and feels his hips tilt and push. Zayn kisses him again, focusing on that so he can scissor his fingers and create more space. He hears the noise Liam makes low in his throat and slides his long fingers in deeper, as far as he can. He establishes a rhythm, long strokes that make Liam mumble against him. It makes Zayn smirk as his mouth tears away and he kisses down Liam’s throat, licking at the birthmark he’s been so fascinated by. And he decides that he likes it a _lot_ , perhaps too much, so he sucks on it, hard, hard enough that Liam gasps and clutches at his shoulder. He’s also pressing up against Zayn, his cock rubbing against his belly, making Zayn’s own respond in kind. He groans and angles away, able to see the dark mark he’s left on Liam’s already, blood coalescing beneath the skin because of his teeth. He hopes it lingers for days.

“Jesus,” Liam mumbles. “I—”

“Sssh,” Zayn laughs, kissing him sloppily. “Ssssh.” And he slides another finger into Liam, making him jerk slightly at the presence of _more_.

“Oh _god_.”

“D’you like that?” Zayn watches him with dark, hungry eyes. He wants to see every flicker of emotion on Liam’s face. He wants to watch him unravel and come undone. He wants to tear the sweetness away layer by layer and see what’s hidden beneath. He’s dying for it. “Do you like that, Liam?”

“Yes.” He whispers it, almost like a prayer, a prayer to slick fingers and heat and movement. “God, don’t stop, Zayn, please.”

“Well, because you asked so nicely…” Zayn laughs, keeping his rhythm up. “Give me that pillow though.”

Liam reaches behind him and snags a corner, tossing it to Zayn. He nudges Liam’s hip with his free hand and he responds as he’s supposed to, hips lifting so Zayn can stuff it under him. Much better. He’s pleased with the result and leans back on his knees, Liam spread out and vulnerable before him. He can feel his own cock pressing against his trousers with an almost painful pressure but ignores it, watching Liam instead. Liam, completely naked and unbared to him. Liam, the sweetest lad he’s ever known, looking at him like he alone can offer him the world.

He absolutely does not want to let him down.

Brown eyes hooked to brown, Zayn pushes in with his three fingers and then curls them, hoping this new angle will help. He knows he’s succeeded when Liam shudders and groans, eyes closing as he bites at his lip, already red from kisses and bites. Zayn pulls away and does it again, slow and sure, hitting _that spot_ , watching Liam’s chest heave with the moan he expels.

“Oh my god,” Liam turns his face, pressing it into the other pillow. “Oh my god, Zayn.”

“Tell me,” Zayn whispers. “Tell me.”

“You’ve got to stop going so slow.” Liam looks at him again, all wide eyes and red cheeks. “I’m going to go mad if you go so slow.”

“Okay.” But Zayn keeps up with the deliberate pace, enjoying how Liam’s eyes blow wide again.

“Zayn, god, please, seriously.”

“Okay.” But he does it again, watches as Liam’s chest expands and falls with the huge breaths he’s taking. He’s fascinated, he’s turned on, he’s fucking horny as shit, but he wants to give this to Liam, he wants to give him the whole bloody world, he wants to prove that he may be shit at bowling but he’s _good_ at this.

“ _Zayn_.” This time he almost growls it and Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up high. Inteeeeeresting. Very interesting. Liam is almost _glaring_ at him now and it appears there’s an animal beneath the sugary sweetness and, god, he shouldn’t but he wants to see what happens if he pushes just a _little_ more.

So he watches Liam, looks directly into those narrowed eyes, and does it again, aware of Liam’s hips automatically rolling and the way his eyes flutter and warmth blossoms on his neck and chest, painting his skin pink.

“That’s it,” Liam pants. “I warned you.”

“Warned me wha—?”

But Liam has levered himself up and Zayn feels a moment of panic, thinking he’s gone too far, thinking that he’s going to leave, but instead Liam gains a vertical position and then pushes Zayn to his back, hard. Zayn is shocked, can literally feel it all over his face, but then Liam is attacking his trousers and has them and his own briefs removed summarily, increasing that feeling. He looks at him, that anger still there, then grabs him roughily and literally turns him over. Zayn stares at his own sheets, nonplussed.

“Liam—”

“Sssh.” Liam leans in, kissing the back of his neck. “Sshh. I just—I couldn’t handle it.”

“Oh.” It’s all Zayn can think to say. He feels offbalanced again because he wouldn’t expect Liam to do this, he wouldn’t expect him to take control like this. Not _Liam._ It’s undeniable that he has though when he feels his fingers push inside him. Zayn grips his sheets, eyes squeezed shut, as he accustoms himself to being filled again. _God_. It’d been too long. It had definitely been too long.

Liam has him worked up to a fine level of buzzing arousal—and Zayn has a hickey of his own on his shoulder—when he stops, his fingers stalling, making Zayn actually whine in protest. Liam laughs because of it and kisses his neck, running his free hand down his spine.

“Where are your condoms?”

“I—” Oh. _Oh_. He hadn’t been expecting this, hadn’t expected this at all, didn’t exactly peg Liam as a topper, but he doesn’t mind, not when he remembers the sight of Liam’s dick, not when he thinks of how much better _that_ would feel. “They’re in my desk. Top drawer.”

“Okay.” Liam moves away and Zayn flops to his back to watch, idly palming himself, thumb circling round his head so he can eke some of his own tension away. 

Liam goes through the drawer, standing naked and fully erect in the middle of the room, and finds what he’s looking for easily. He grins triumphantly at Zayn and sheathes himself there, climbing back onto the bed with his cock latex-wrapped. Zayn feels his stomach squirm. It’s been ten months since his last fuck and that bloke was on the less than average side, rather than more.

Oh god.

Liam seems to read Zayn’s nerves because his brows crinkle together and he reaches out to touch Zayn’s wrist.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, fine, just—you’re big,” Zayn blurts out, feeling the heat in his face because of his less than tactful reply.

“Oh.” Liam laughs a little, his blush spreading. He shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. If you want, we can—”

“No, I _want_ to. Just—just take it slow at first, yeah? It’s—it’s been a while.”

“Okay.” Liam nods so seriously that Zayn knows he’s not going to be a dick like he had been earlier. “I can do that.”

“Okay.” Zayn watches him as he grabs the pillow and places it under himself and then slowly, slowly spreads his legs. Liam watches him, questioning him, and Zayn nods.

Liam kisses him, slowly, soft, like they had earlier. Warm and comfortable and affectionate. Zayn wraps his arms around his neck, giving all he can to him. He feels Liam push against him and then into him, feels that slow thrust. He stops but Zayn shakes his head and he continues, pushing until he’s completely embedded inside of Zayn, who is seeing stars and experiencing a slight ache but, God, fuck shit fuck, he’s never felt _so full._

“Okay?”

“Yes.” Zayn’s eyes are still closed but he doesn’t want to open them in case he really is dreaming. “I’m brilliant.”

“All right.” He can hear the laughter on the edge of Liam’s voice.

He goes slowly, which Zayn is thankful for. He’s _really_ thankful though when that pace picks up a few minutes later and they’re kissing wildly again, fingers digging into flesh, the sound of bodies colliding filling the room along with their staggered breathing. It gets better because Liam is slamming into him now, hard, and it’s lightyears better than the last guy Zayn shagged and he never thought Liam would be like this, never never never. He’s scrabbling for purchase on reality and finds the tangled sheets as a sort of solace. He grips them tightly, tying himself down to actuality. He’s getting his brains literally fucked out and he can’t complain, not when it’s Liam’s hips jammed against his, not when it’s Liam’s mouth kissing him with a bruising force, not when it’s the bloke he’s been in love with the last year and half doing the fucking.

His hand falls between their careening bodies so he can ease his own aching dick, so he can reach that completion too. Liam is panting and intent and fierce and he’s never been so turned on in his life. Never. Sex with Liam is going into his list of things he never wants to forget because this is the best lay of his life and he’d been hoping his hopes wouldn’t be dashed in this area and they haven’t, oh god, they haven’t, because this has just exceeded them to the point where it’s crushed them to smithereens. 

Zayn jerks himself off as Liam pummels into him and he sees the tightness come across Liam’s face and knows he’s close. He levers up and drags him into another feverish kiss, biting his lip hard. He hears Liam’s hiss and wraps himself about him, his hand working at himself wildly. Liam watches him with such focus, eyes sunken into his, attention never wavering and they watch each other, mesmerized, until Liam half-shouts and stutters and stays, stalled inside of Zayn. It only takes a few more tugs before Zayn can follow, sticky wetness now coating the both of their bellies as he mutters a string of “fuckfuckfucks” beneath his breath and sags. Complete.

Liam pitches forward after a few moments of heavy, heart-pounding breathing, lips touching Zayn’s, soft and sweet as before. He pushes his damp fringe off his forehead and laughs quietly.

“Well then.”

Zayn, feeling somewhat ethereal from it all, just nods, wondering if the haziness in front of his eyes is ever going to disappear.

“Yeah.”

It makes the both of them giggle before they collapse to the mattress, curling toward each other, chests rising and falling as their heartbeats attempt to slow to some semblance of normality. Liam massages Zayn’s hip, those eyes of his amiable and content now the fun’s over with.

“I think this was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

It makes Zayn laugh again, nose scrunching up, until he burrows his head against Liam’s chest, arm thrown casually over him.

“Oh god, you’ve no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

“What—were you nervous?”

“I was a proper mess,” Zayn confesses to Liam’s collarbone. “I was bricking it something bad.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I had been too?”

“No!” Zayn looks up at him, shocked. “Why would you ever be nervous about going out with me?”

Liam is looking at him increduously now. “Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous, Zayn! And you’re cool and your tattoos are bloody artsy and hot and I’m just this poor sod trying to be a teacher.”

“I like your tattoos though too,” Zayn frowns.

“What?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and traces the arrows on Liam’s forearm, dark against his pale skin. “This one reminds me of Mario Kart though.”

“Fair enough.”

It makes them laugh again and kiss, fingers framing cheeks, their eyes crinkling with their smiles once they’ve ended it. They touch each other, light and intimate brushes, getting to know each other that way too. They chat quietly. Zayn admits he likes Liam’s short, ruffled hair and Liam says he wishes he could pull off Zayn’s leather jackets. They laugh, they kiss, and then they slip inside each other again, this ride less of a race and more of a time where they can be together as intimately as two people can be. They watch each other, eyes never leaving each other’s faces for a second, until they’ve both reached their orgasm and fall to sweat-soaked sheets again.

They clean off, playing around in the shower, wrestling with slick bodies. Liam goes down on Zayn and almost makes him bash his head into the showerhead when he finishes. They laugh and wash each other down and snap towels at each other’s bare arses once they’re dry. Zayn can admit that this is the fastest he’s grown close with someone but he’d never speak a word against it in case he jinxes it. He desperately doesn’t want this to go awry. They order takeaway and eat in their underwear, watching telly on Zayn’s tiny screen, and fall asleep curled around each other in Zayn’s small bed, breath smelling like Zayn’s toothpaste and arms and legs casually tangled—and Zayn didn’t even have to ask Liam to stay.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Zayns wakes in the morning, groggy and wondering why he can’t just sleep for the rest of the day, the same as always. He doesn’t like mornings, especially when he hasn’t had his coffee or first cigarette of the day yet. He feels sluggish and slow and lays there for a moment, eyes closed, contemplating whether he’d really like to actually be awake. The general consensus is no, no he doesn’t, and he can already feel himself getting sucked back into his world of dreams when something—some _one_ —stirs beside him and he freezes, heart rocketing up into the back of his throat. Is there a mouse in his bed? Did he get drunk and bring someone home? What the bloody hell—

Memory hits him like a punch to the mouth and his eyes spring open, wondering if it really is memory or a dream haunting him still. But it’s not. God, it’s not and he’s so wildly happy in that moment that it’s a rush of arenaline to the system and he feels like he’s had three cups of coffee and half a pack of cigarettes at the same time.

Liam is curled up on his side, one arm splayed out beside him. His face is slack and peaceful in sleep and it’s all so endearingly cute that Zayn’s heart seizes momentarily. He can’t believe he’s this lucky. He can’t believe the boy he’s fancied for nearly two years now is in his bed and has been there since the night before. He can’t believe that they had _sex_ here. Finally. It’s all a tad overwhelming, waking and remembering this and remembering it hasn’t all been a figment of his imagination again.

Zayn sits up carefully, not wanting to disturb Liam in his sleep. He just watches him for a few moments, processing the last twelve hours or so. It’s a lot to take in. It’s a lot to be excited over. He cautiously reaches out and touches Liam’s cheek, fingers brushing reverently over his warm skin and the shelf his cheekbone creates beneath it. Liam stirs again and Zayn snatches his hand back in alarm. Liam just tips to his back but continues to sleep and Zayn is able to breathe once more. He watches Liam for a few moments longer and then slithers from the bed as silently as he can, dropping to the floor on bare feet. He roots through his jacket from the night before to find his cigarettes and pads over to the window, too lazy to go downstairs and outside like he’s supposed to. He’s done it several times before and it may not necessarily be the best thing to do but he can’t be arsed to throw his jacket on and find his shoes just to go outside for a smoke that will last ten minutes. Besides, judging by the steel gray sky outside his window, it looks like the clouds could spill at any moment. He’s not going to risk Liam waking up to him all bedraggled and soaked. Definitely not sexy.

Zayn lights up his cigarette and takes the first drag, feeling the smoke enter his lungs and the nicotine hit his system. Almost as good as coffee. He props his hip against the wall and exhales outside, watching the smoke drift away into nothingness. There’s just something peaceful about smoking; it’s just you and the cherry-red tip. There’s something soothing about exhaling, as if you’re taking all of your worries and letting them go with every breath. He originally picked the habit up because of his mates back home but he continued it because it’s a good stress reliever. Yeah, there’s some possibility of cancer but you only live once, right? He’s sure he’ll quit in the next few years. He’s taking another drag and is about to exhale when hands slide down his stoamch from behind and he jumps in surprise, coughing on the smoke he was about to inhale. He splutters and Liam is leaning over his shoulder, eyes concerned, mumbling over and over again that he’s sorry. When Zayn’s sure he isn’t going to die, he shakes his head and laughs disjointedly.

“It’s fine, I’m sorry, I just got surprised is all.”

“I should have realized. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Zayn smiles at him. “Seriously, it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Liam nods and he’s cute. He’s cute dressed in nothing but his briefs with his eyes bright and his cheeks pink. Cigarette in one hand, his wrist resting against the windowframe, he leans in and presses his mouth to Liam’s, letting lips glide and sink. Liam’s thumb is rubbing circles in his hipbone when they finish.

“That’s bad for you, you know,” Liam whispers, eyes drawn to the trail of smoke outside the window.

Zayn sighs. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

“It’s bad for me too.” Liam’s eyes are trained on his face, unblinking, and Zayn feels a lurch of anxiety again.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He sticks his hand farther out the window, twisting himself into an awkward position to keep his cigarette as far from Liam as he can. “I didn’t know the smoke—”

“That’s not why.” Zayn recognizes the look in his eyes now and his belly squirms in anticipation. Oh yes. Oh yes please.

“Then why?” he breathes. He just wants to hear it. He just wants to hear Liam say it because he’s still in shock that he affects the other boy just as badly as he affects him. That’s a lot to wrap his mind around too.

“Because.” Liam’s hands slide to cradle his hips, fingernails trailing up and down his lower back. Zayn shivers and goosebumps erupt all over his skin. “It’s just sexy, yeah? You in your pants smoking out the window with some truly brilliant bedhead and morning beard going on.”

“You’re taking the piss.” Zayn laughs but there’s no denying the look in Liam’s eyes. It’s so unfair for him to have eyes like that and for them to be leveled at him like that. There’s no way that Zayn can even compete.

“Not at all.” Liam’s palms drift up his ribs and back down, causing another violent shiver. “You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever seen in my life. Did I mention that I love your tattoos too?”

“You did last night,” Zayn murmurs, feeling the blush on his face. Liam is being very flattering right now but it’s not like he actually _minds_ it.

“Well, that was before I saw them when you were smoking in nothing but briefs with some sex hair going on.”

“I thought you said it was bedhead.” Zayn’s smiling but he tucks it into the corners of his mouth because he’s liking this exchange too much—he’s liking playful and teasing Liam too much.

“No, it’s definitely sex hair,” Liam asserts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna make it worse?”

“Absobloodylutely.”

Mouths connect, definitely not the sweet good morning meeting they had shared earlier. This has heat, this has bite—literally. Zayn tosses his cigarette out the window so his fingers can curl in Liam’s hair and their bodies can settle closer. It’s good, all warm skin and angular lines. It tastes like tobacco and the vestiges of mint toothpaste.

They stagger back toward Zayn’s bed, loathe to let one another go, even for a few moments. Zayn presses Liam back against the bedframe, the sense of deja vu nearly overwhelming. But this time he’s sure of himself, this time he’s sure of _Liam_ , and he’s going to prove just _how_ sexy he really is. He’s going to show Liam just how much he’s been thinking of him in the last year and a half.

Zayn’s fingers curve around Liam’s hips, urging him up with the pressure on his skin. Liam complies without hestitation, scrambling backwards onto the tiny bed with Zayn following closely. He immediately pushes the other boy against the wall, knees pressed to the other side of his thighs, and sucks a mark into the skin around the blatant birthmark on his neck. Liam hisses and Zayn bears down harder, focused on making sure Liam will carry the mark for days. He wants him to remember who made it. He wants him to remember their time together. He wants him to remember, at least for a while, he was Zayn’s. He wants Liam to remember him every time he sees the hickey—and yeah, he wants other people to see it too so maybe, just maybe, they’ll think Liam is off-limits.

“Zayn,” Liam sighs, tugging at his hair. “Babe, come here.”

Zayn lingers for a moment longer before his lips meet Liam’s again and they go falling into a kiss that is hot and searching and needy. Zayn can feel the pressure of his own groin in his pants and can feel Liam, half-hard, beneath him too. He leans back and grinds down on top of Liam, pressing them tight together, and feels a sharp thrill go racing through him when Liam groans, head falling back with his eyes tightly closed.

“You like that, Li?” Zayn asks, breathing the words into existence. “You like me pressed up against you like this?”

Liam hands are at his hips, fingers gripping tightly at the tanned skin present. His mouth is red and swollen, obscene with implication. Zayn’s throat is immediately dry and tight because he’s thinking of those lips wrapped around his cock and the very idea makes him go even harder.

“Mmmm,” Liam hums. “I like that a lot.”

“Yeah?” Zayn grinds down on Liam agin and he’s not the only one reacting to the contact. Liam is swollen beneath him and Zayn is flushed with want. “Tell me, Li.”

“Zayn,” he groans. “Zayn, please.”

“Please what?” Zayn likes games. He’s found he especially likes playing them with Liam, normally rather kind and sweet, who gets impatient and demanding where his dick is concerned. Zayn loves it. He loves affecting Liam enough that he gets like this. It may be selfish—or a tad sadistic, he reckons—but there it is.

Liam is watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, pink-cheeked, his breath staggering with every inhale. Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever felt more powerful.

“Touch me,” Liam pleads, his eyes huge. “You have to touch me, Z. I’m going mental—please.”

Zayn just smiles and leans in to Liam’s soft neck, nibbling lightly as his hands wander and caress, taking in the other boy’s shoulders and chest.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that because--technically--this _is_ me touching you.”

He’s surprised Liam doesn’t brain him right then and there. He half expects him to take matters into his own hands again as he did last time when Zayn tried to play this game. Instead he just stares at Zayn as if he can’t believe this is happening before his hips lift and push upward and he’s pressing their groins together, jaw clenched.

“I need you,” Liam whispers, his voice rough. “I need you all over me, Zayn. I need you inside me or me inside you. I don’t really care how I just can’t _think_ right now and I _need you to touch me_ or I swear to God--”

Zayn silences him with a searing kiss. His own body is on fire and he can feel his own erection hard and thick. He understands Liam’s frustrations because he’s definitely beginning to experience some of his own. It’s the want to touch and be touched everywhere and all at once. It’s enough to drive a man mad--it’s doing so to Liam and is spreading to catch Zayn up in it too. He settles over Liam and groans, feeling Liam’s own noise reverberating through connected mouths. Zayn’s hips start tipping forward and back and he hears Liam’s groan this time as their crotches connect and fall away. The friction is glorious but there’s a need for more, more more more, and Liam doesn’t have to say anything for Zayn to know. He’s feeling the same pressure.

They move so they’re on the bed properly and peel off their pants themselves, wriggling out of them so they’re naked again. Zayn takes Liam’s cock in hand, reminded again just how large he is. Watching Liam with dark eyes, he bends to take him in his mouth, loving him with tongue and teeth and torridity, doing all he can to make Liam come undone again. His hand is there too, working at him where his mouth is not. Liam is splayed out on the bed, chest heaving, eyes closed, murmuring words of praise and encouragement, hips looping lightly in rhythm to what Zayn is doing. They’re getting into it and the feel of one another again, falling into what familiarity they have with one another, all long limbs and warm skin and murmured words.

It isn’t long before Zayn unearths the bottle of lube and pulls off of Liam. No matter how happy he wants to make the other boy, he’s not quite willing to let him come yet. There’s still so much more to come. He holds the bottle up, meeting Liam’s eyes. The question is there and apparent: what are they going to do here? _Who_ is going to be doing the doing here? He can tell that the both of them are used to topping and, well, he’d really enjoy it this morning. Liam meets his eyes steadily before he bites his lip and spreads his legs wider in obvious invitation.

Zayn doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He slicks up long fingers and moves them slowly inside Liam again, remembering the night before. Space is created easily and Liam’s breathing becomes slightly labored, his face flushed. Zayn can relate. Oh, but he can relate. He moves his fingers inside the other boy, crooking them so he can hit that magic spot. Liam tenses and sighs, hips jerking. His swallow is audible.

“Oh god. Zayn.”

“Tell me how it feels.” Zayn looks up at him and swallows in an attempt to rid his throat of its desert condition. “Tell me how it feels, Li.”

“Good.” He breathes shakily and laughs, hips arching again. “ _Really_ good.”

“Think you can handle more?”

Liam swallows again and nods jerkily, lips swollen from kisses and the pressure of his own teeth because of what Zayn has been doing to him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m good.”

Three fingers are moving within him now and Liam groans, mumbling a “fuck” under his breath that makes a quiet glow of achievement light in Zayn’s belly. He wants to make Liam happy. He wants to make this the best sexual experience he’s had in a while. He wants to make this worthwhile. He wants to make this mean something. Knowing that Liam is cursing again seems to be proving that his aims are being met.

Liam is shaking not too long afterward, his mouth clenched tight and eyes screwed shut. Zayn kisses down his chest and over each of his perfect nipples as he finger fucks him, concentrating on him unlike he has anyone in a long, long time. He’s considering wanking Liam off too—and then fucking him into the mattress—when Liam reaches out, hand wrapping around his wrist.

“Please.” He looks up at him with eyes that already make him looked completely fucked out. “Please, Zayn. Now.”

Zayn nods without a moment’s hesitation and quickly locates the condoms on his desk. He unwraps one and sheathes himself and slicks himself up. Liam watches him all the while, lower lip caught between his teeth. Unable to resist, Zayn leans down to kiss him, hands ghosting over his skin.

“You’re not going to get mad at me again, are ya, and suddenly flip positions?”

Liam laughs, some of the tension leaking from his body. He squints up at Zayn, nose wrinkled as if in consideration.

“I dunno. It depends if you’re as good as you look.”

Zayn snorts at that, nipping at Liam’s lip before he licks them. “I’m better.”

Liam laughs lightly as they position themselves, eyes locked. Zayn looks away only to guide himself, hand wrapped around his length as he nudges against Liam and then slowly, slowly, starts to slides within him. Liam shudders, eyes closing as his thighs open wider. Zayn continues pushing until he bottoms out and then holds, letting the both of them catch up. He kisses the other boy, using that as a distraction so they can both settle. Liam is hot and tight around him and it’s been so long since his cock has been anywhere but in his own hand that Zayn needs the time too.

Liam tips into him, a non-verbal cue that Zayn heeds. He pulls away and thrusts back, rolling into Liam again. Lips graze and slide. They settle into this too and the familiarity and the rhythm. Zayn is reaching for Liam’s cock, lying heavy and unattended on his stomach, when there’s a loud voice from across the room.

“Oh _JESUS_.”

Zayn freezes, sunk within Liam, his fingers centimeters from his cock. He sees Liam’s eyes looking wider than any human’s ever should be and instinctively dives, hearing Liam muttering curses in a breathless string. He throws the sheets over the both of them, unable to think of anything else they can do. They’ve just been caught having sex. Very, very obvious sex. It’s not like there’s many options open to them in terms of preserving their dignity.

Zayn speaks from beneath the blanket, not sure he’ll ever be able to come out and face the light of day.

“Lou?”

“Who else?.”

Now he’s angry. Of course it makes sense that it’s Louis but Louis _isn’t supposed to be here_. He was told to stay away until noon and, even if Zayn’s mind is still sex-befuddled, he knows definitively that it’s nowhere close to afternoon. It makes him infuriated enough that he rips the blankets down to poke his head out. Liam is pressed against his side, embarrassment radiating off of him in almost tangible waves.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Zayn glares at Louis as angrily as he can, though it’s not hard. He is under the sheets with an extrememly fit lad pressed up against him and they’d been shagging and headed for a mutually beneficial end when Louis had to ruin it _all_.

“Well, this is my room.” Louis is smiling at him with that shiteating grin and Zayn wishes he were fully clothed so he could punch him in his smug little face. He’s so mad he’s considering decking one of his best mates, clothed or not.

Hell hath no fury like a bloke who’s been cock blocked in the middle of sex.

“ _What are you doing here?_ ” Zayn repeats. “I _told_ you—”

“But I needed a book.” Louis smiles winningly. “Can’t exactly do my coursework without it, eh, Zayn?”

“Get out. I’m in the middle of something.”

“It definitely looked like it.”

Zayn is pretty sure he can feel the heat coming off of Liam’s blush now. It makes him even more incenced because he’d been getting it on with Liam, the nicest guy he’s ever known, the guy he’s been mooning over for the last three terms and Louis was ruining it.

“Get out,” Zayn repeats softly. Sometimes it’s enough to scare Louis straight, that change of tone. “Get out before I brain you with the closest heaviest object I can find.”

“Now, is that any way for you to treat your roommate? It’s appalling the—”

Zayn rolls over to his desk, ignoring Liam’s startled squeak from his unexpected weight atop him, and snatches up a heavy stone lion sitting there. He glares at Louis, hefting it menacingly in one hand.

“Get out, Louis. I love you and you’re one my best mates but _get out_ or I will chuck this at your head.”

“Fine.” Louis holds out his hands in surrender but Zayn can see his eyes and they’re much bigger than normal. “No harm, no foul. I didn’t mean—”

“You did mean. Now leave.”

“Fine, fine, you dictator. I’m leaving. Goodbye, Liam! I hope when I get to meet you it won’t be when my best mate is actively penetrating you. Ta!”

Liam sails out of the room, leaving Zayn and Liam to themselves again. Liam slowly pulls the sheets from his face, staring up at Zayn.

“That was—”

“Awful,” Zayn supplies. “I swear to God, the bloke probably wanted—”

“To make sure his roommate was okay?” Liam looks at Zayn hopefully, who laughs, head shaking. He leans in and kisses Liam with a smack.

“God love you and your hope in people. I’m pretty sure he wanted to see exactly what he did.”

“Well, I hope he enjoyed the show then.”

Zayn bursts out laughing because this is _Liam_ , but he’s beginning to learn that Liam isn’t quite as goody two-shoed as he had thought before. Hidden depths. Everyone has them and Liam is no expection. His dirty humor is perhaps one of the best of those things not readily seen on the surface.

“Hopefully so.” He sighs, looking at Liam questioningly. “So, I guess that was the end of that?”

Liam laughs quietly and nods. “Unfortunately so. I think the mood has been effectively killed.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Zayn whispers. Louis is going to pay for this. He’s going to pay big for this. He knew that Zayn hadn’t been laid in what was close to a year. He _knew_ and he still barged in. The wanker. The absolute arse.

“Yeah.” Liam shrugs. “I have some things I need to do though so maybe it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure. Coursework and all that is important.” Zayn doesn’t want this to stop. He doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t know where he and Liam stand now. Awkwardness still seems to be affecting the both of them and he can’t tell if it’s because they were walked in on or because Liam is leaving.

“Yeah. I’ve got this huge exam in a few days I need to start prepping for. Can’t go failing now, yeah?” Liam smiles and sits up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. He scrubs a hand through his mussed hair, attempting to settle it. “I’ll be able to relax after it though, thankfully.”

“That’s good,” Zayn murmurs. He stays on his side in bed, watching Liam start to dress, pulling on his clothes from the night before. He’s sad to see that beautiful body become covered again. “I’m sure it will be a relief.”

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Liam pulls on his plaid shirt, Zayn’s stomach twisting slightly because, God help him, he still looks fit as anything and he’s still a little turned on from the half-sex they’d just had. “It will be nice.” He turns, settling his collar, and looks over at Zayn, laying with the sheets tangled about him, one hand curled under his cheek. “I’m sure I can think of some nice relaxing things to do.”

“Yeah…” Zayn isn’t sure how he is supposed to respond to this. Casual? Happy for him? Relaxing plans can range from watching TV in your joggers to going for a daytrip to the country. What is this ‘relaxing?’

“Yeah.” Liam is smiling, looking all too pleased with himself. “They can also be quite fun. Very exerting.”

Zayn’s interest is perked now. He smiles and looks up at the other boy, brows arching high in question. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Especially because they might involve this one really sexy lad I’ve known for a while.”

Zayn wants to laugh but he doesn’t want to ruin this so he just smiles, feeling the flutterings in his stomach start to move toward his mouth. Happiness on golden, incandescent wings.

“That sounds like fun.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Liam chuckles and kisses Zayn, soft and slow, tongue exploring his mouth thoroughly before he pulls away. His eyes are warm and his smile ecstatic. “I’ll see you soon, Zayn, okay?”

“Okay.” Zayn smiles, fighting to remain at least somewhat normal when there’s nothing he wants more than to go running down the streets shouting that Liam wants to see him again and is even planning on sleeping with him again. “I’ll see you soon, Liam.”

Liam smiles again, indulges in another brief kiss, and then leaves. Zayn waits until he’s sure Liam is gone before he lets himself celebrate, dancing and shimmying in bed. Liam wants to see him again. Liam likes him. _He slept with Liam._ He stuffs a fist into his mouth, attempting to compress some of the wild happiness that’s swept him up.

Of course, Louis is there to ruin it again.

“Are you attempting to eat your hand or are you trying to finish what you’d started a while ago?”

Zayn looks at Louis standing across the room with that same grin and mischief in his eyes. Zayn just smiles and shakes his head.

“You don’t want to know, Lou.”

“Because it looked to me like you were trying to get yourself off, albeit in a very weird way.”

“Fuck off,” Zayn replies, too happy to really consider retaliating in any other way.

“I’m assuming it’s safe for me to be back here since I saw loverboy in the hall. By the way, he was smiling so big I thought he was going to break his face. It was disgusting.”

“Was he really?”

“Would I lie?”

“Yes.” Zayn laughs and looks at him again. “Ninety percent of the time I think you’re lying.”

Louis manages to pull a shocked face. “I’m wounded, Zayn. Absolutely gutted that you would think about me like that.”

Zayn just shrugs and stares at the ceiling again. Images of Liam are imprinted on the back of his eyelids and there’s nothing he wants more than to see the lad himself in person again, even though he’d only left a few minutes before. He knows his attachment to Liam has only increased because of the night’s events, but he can’t help it. He doubts anyone would be able to.

“You going to see him again?” Louis asks quietly, breaking into his thoughts.

Zayn smiles and nods. “Yeah, yeah, I think so.”

“Well, brilliant. I’m glad. You’ve only been obsessed with him for forever.”

“He’s better than everything I thought.”

Louis looks like a cat that’s been thrown in the bath judging from the look on his face. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Zayn shrugs again, not too fussed, and contemplates the ceiling again. He can’t believe that the boy he’s fancied for so long was in his bed last night. He can’t believe that they’re set up to see each other again soon—outside of class and outside of anything academically related. It was just going to be them, together.

Zayn smiles again, so big he feels his cheeks hurt, and decides it’s time to get ready for the day, even though he knows he’ll be thinking of Liam again, even though he knows that between the monotony of classes and work he’ll be thinking of big hands and warm eyes and a boyish smile. It’s no different than normal, really, except that now he has firsthand knowledge of it all and, from the looks of things, he’s going to get the chance to memorize them all over again soon.

Life is so goddamn good he could just scream.


End file.
